


Dancing With The Wind

by majoris



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballroom Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, amongst other things, this was not supposed to be such a monster of a fic and I'm sorry for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majoris/pseuds/majoris
Summary: She didn't have a dance partner, and he wasn't supposed to dance ever again. Slightly opposing agendas, really.But,oh well, they will have to make it through somehow. Right?
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 53
Kudos: 120
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	Dancing With The Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cardinalgirl75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalgirl75/gifts).



> This fic is an answer to the prompt: **Strictly Ballroom AU. It just seems so perfect for JB.** I agree wholeheartedly therefore here we are.  
> Dear cardinalgirl75, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy this in some way, at least. And, of course, thank you for the prompt!
> 
> At this point, I'd also like to apologize to anyone who has any connotations to the dancing profession and knows more about the topic than I do. I tried but I'm dumb and lazy and I am sorry.  
> I also came up with the names of the dances for whatever reason. Please refer to the end notes if you want to know what they - kind of - are in our realm, thank you.

“I’ve sent the word out.” Catelyn Stark said looking straight at her, blue eyes clear and honest. Her left hand shook where it laid on the desk and Brienne’s eyes flickered to it, focused on it. There was not much noise outside of the office, the Academy almost empty this early in the morning. It was quiet. _It was so quiet_. It would have been a pleasant change normally, but today for some reason Brienne found it annoying. “I wouldn’t expect much,” Catelyn’s voice reached her as if from behind the fog, and Brienne’s eyes snapped up. “I’m sorry Brienne.”

Brienne blinked and nodded once taking a deep breath in. She clenched her hands unconsciously and regretted it instantly, twinge of her unhealed scrapes went up to her arm toward her chest.

“It’s okay.” She said, eyes steering away from Catelyn’s all-knowing gaze. “Thank you.”

“ _Brienne_ ,” Catelyn said, voice softer than before, and Brienne’s eyes moved toward hers once more. There was something clearly written on the woman’s face, something residing in her eyes, something Brienne didn’t really understand but something she didn’t want to confront either.

“Thank you.” She said once more, her own voice stronger, propelled by her decision to _move_ , to get out of there as quickly as it was possible. “I’ve got to go; I’ll see you in classes Catelyn. Have a nice day.” 

She didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t worry if it was rude or not this time. She turned around, and walked out of the woman’s office.

Her steps carried her fast through the narrow corridors of the Winterfell Dance Academy. Morning sun slithered through, painting a pattern of small rectangles all over the dark, stone floors. Brienne didn’t slow down as she normally would, didn’t look at anything else around her. Only her feet and the floor in her line of vision.

She got to the underground levels in no time at all, grabbed her things from her locker, slung her old bag over her shoulder and hurried out of the building moving past a few sluggish students on her way.

It was crowded when she walked out on the streets of King’s Landing. It always surprised her how busy it could be even this early in the day, how different from the inside of the Academy. Two places, inches from each other, only a wall dividing them. Two separate worlds.

Today it was soothing, exactly what she needed.

Faces of strangers passing by her, moving around her. No one really noticing her, everyone hurrying somewhere, everyone busy with their lives.

They didn’t care for her, didn’t know her, didn’t know anything.

When she put her headphones on, when she put her music on, she couldn’t hear their noise. The only thing the movement of the crowd, of the city beneath her feet.

She let it take her; she let it guide her home.

-

He moved through the crowd, bags of takeaway balanced gracefully in his left hand. He pushed forward, toward his brother’s penthouse. He slipped past the doorman, nodding his head in an answer to the man’s greeting. He endured an annoying elevator melody on his way up.

Bronn - his brother’s security, or friend, or companion, or assistant? It was never clear – opened the door for him with his usual bored expression.

Jaime pushed one of the bags into his chest.

“This one’s for you.” He said and moved past him into the apartment.

Tyrion was sitting in the vast living room, frowning over piles of documents.

“Little brother.” Jaime said, but Tyrion didn’t even look up, so engrossed in his work. Jaime shook his head, sighed loudly and when he didn’t get any reaction he put the two remaining takeaway bags on the documents, right in front of his brother’s face. Tyrion grabbed the bags almost immediately and looked up at him.

Jaime smirked. _Now_ he had his attention.

“Jaime!” Tyrion said, motioning to the papers with annoyed look on his face.

“ _Tyrion_.” Jaime imitated his brother’s tone and rounded the coffee table to sit on the couch next to him. “We had an appointment.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes and put the bags down far away from his documents.

“A social meeting.” He said but folded the papers nonetheless.

Jaime leaned back into the couch, enjoying the way the soft cushions gave under his weight.

“Isn’t that more important?”

Tyrion chuckled.

“Sure.”

Bronn walked into the living room bringing three bottles of beer and sat on the armchair in front of them opening his takeaway bag and digging into the contents immediately.

Jaime reached for one of the bottles, twisted it open, and took a long sip. The cold liquid slid down his throat pleasantly.

“Talking about social meetings,” Tyrion said, “Catelyn Stark called.”

Jaime glanced at his brother and then did a double-take. His eyebrows moving up.

“Yeah, I know.” His brother reached for the other bottle and opened it. “I thought it was a prank at first and let me tell you, Lady Stark did not appreciate my response.”

Bronn laughed from the side, almost choking on the piece of burger in his mouth.

“That’s an understatement.” He said, grabbing the remaining bottle and washing down his food with the liquid.

Tyrion cleared his throat.

“Anyway, the following conversation was…,” he said, licked his lips looking up for a second then back at Jaime, “let’s use the word _curious_.”

Jaime chuckled and shook his head slowly.

“Isn’t it always with her?” He said. “What did she want from you?”

“Nothing.” Tyrion said.

“Nothing.” Jaime repeated, his frown deepening. He put the beer down on the table.

“Yes.” Tyrion said. “She didn’t want anything from me because she wanted you.”

“Now that’s a good line,” Bronn commented and Jaime threw him a look, which the man promptly ignored.

“What does she want with me?” He asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question. His relationship, his whole family’s relationship, with Starks was _shaky_ at best. He couldn’t even start imagining what Catelyn Stark could have want with him.

He guessed it was nothing good.

Tyrion rubbed his face and sighed and so Jaime took up his bottle once again drinking from it, bracing himself for whatever was to come out of his brother’s mouth.

-

Music filled her apartment while she danced. Her coffee table pushed to the wall to make a bit of space in the middle, so she could move, at least a little.

It was a feat, dancing in her small flat, but she didn’t want to go back to the Academy just yet. She still heard their voices in her head - mocking, laughing - echoing in the vast room like some kind of curse. Hyle’s face twisted in a mix of pity and cruel amusement.

It’s not like she haven’t heard all those words before, not like she wasn’t used to them, but she didn’t expect them from him.

_Him_ , her dance partner of almost two years. Him, who stayed with her after classes, spend time with her in coffee shops, went to the library with her.

She got used to Hyle and her guard slowly lowered with the time they spent together.

She started trusting him, didn’t think he could turn against her, not like that anyway. Because he couldn’t have, right? He _wouldn’t._ After all this time?

If it were all a ruse, he would have broken his façade a long time ago.

Or so she thought.

She was still as naïve as before, it seemed.

Punching him didn’t feel as good as punching the others and his voice was the loudest one in her head.

So she danced, trying to drown it all with music and sweat, with steps and figures, with movement.

She danced, and danced, and danced.

And she tried to forget.

-

Jaime walked down the corridor, steps balanced, readjusting the cuffs of his white shirt.

He didn’t bother knocking on the glass doors of his father’s office, didn’t bother asking his assistant if he was allowed in. We walked right inside, standing in front of his father’s desk.

His father looked up at him slowly, eyes sharp, his hand hovering over some papers.

“Jaime,” he said, his voice loud and clear as always, “it is polite to knock.”

“I was summoned.” Jaime said, annoyed, having to rush through the city to the abrupt meeting his father demanded. No previous notice, no regards for whatever his plans might be. Nothing.

One could not say no to his father, so here he was, just as expected.

But he couldn’t help himself being a just little rude about complying to it all.

His father huffed, his jaw moving just a bit but Jaime knew his father well and was too aware of his mannerisms to not notice, but he stood still, waiting his father out.

But his father just looked at him for a bit longer and then went back to his papers, crossing something, changing lines, writing down his comments. It felt like a long time passed before he finally started speaking.

“I heard you declined Lady Stark’s request of a meeting.” He said, not looking up at him.

Jaime didn’t even ask him how he knew anything about that.

“Yes.” He said.

His father kept going through his documents, moving pages away, piling them up on one side. In the silence of his office, one could only hear the soft scraping of the pen on the paper.

Jaime looked through the windows; the sun was setting, night creeping on them with every second. In his head, he tried to go over the things he was supposed to finish for today. How many of them were pressing, how many he could possibly push to tomorrow.

“I need you to meet with her.” His father’s voice brought him back to the office, made him tug slightly at his cuff. “I need you to agree to whatever it is that she wants.”

“ _Father-_ “

“This is not a request.” His father finally looked up from his documents, eyes boring right into Jaime. “She needs a favor, and we need one back from them.” He continued. “I need you to take care of this.”

His father kept looking at him but Jaime knew he wasn’t waiting for an answer; he wasn’t even waiting for the confirmation that his order was received. Jaime wasn’t sure what he was looking for but soon his eyes moved back down to the files and his voice sounded out, almost bored.

“Dismissed.”

-

There was a knock on Brienne’s door, and then right after it another one, followed by the muffled voice.

“Brienne open up, I know you’re home. I’ve got cake!”

_Tysha_.

She should have been expecting that.

Brienne sighed and moved to open the door; Tysha pushed past her immediately, giving her a knowing look. She went straight into her small kitchen, put the cake on the table and busied herself looking for plates.

“You haven’t been in the bakery for a few days now,” the woman said while looking through her cupboards, “though you might be lacking some sweets, probably working yourself down to the-“ she turned around, putting the plates on the table next to the cake. She looked at Brienne, her face scrunching, a line forming between her eyebrows.

“Brienne, are you okay?” Tysha asked, then her eyes glanced down and Brienne didn’t have time to hide her hands behind her back. “What happened to your hands?!” The woman gasped, moved around the table and grabbed for her hands.

Brienne didn’t bother resisting, looked down at her big hands cradled in the small ones. Tysha looked over the - now visible – bruises and slowly healing cuts. Brienne flexed her fingers unconsciously.

“I beat up some guys.” She said. Tysha looked up, small smile bloomed upon her face.

“Bet they deserved it.”

Their faces flashed through Brienne’s eyes without permission and she shook her head, cleared her throat and moved her hands away from Tysha’s grasp. She moved towards her kettle, poured some water into it and put it on. She could hear her neighbor moving behind her, could hear one of the chair’s scraping on her floor.

“It was Hyle,” Brienne said, not looking around.

“Shit.” Tysha cursed softly. “I always hated that guy.”

Brienne turned around. Tysha met her gaze, warm brown eyes looking up at her from where she was sitting by the table. She pushed her pretty, brown curls behind her ear.

“What about the competition?” The woman asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

Brienne bit her lip, shrugged, feigning nonchalance. As if she didn’t care, as if all of her hopes and dreams haven’t been brought down on this one, damned day.

“That piece of shit,” Tysha mumbled, shaking her head.

Brienne looked to the side. The kettle started whistling behind her back.

Tysha stood up, hands on the table.

“I’m gonna make us some drinks.” She declared and Brienne nodded her head.

-

He couldn’t remember the last time he was here.

Well, that was a lie.

He did remember the last time, _the only time_ , he’s been here. Years ago when all of this was just a folly, their mother’s _ridiculous_ idea – father’s words.

They were all still so young, not so innocent, maybe apart from Tyrion. They had no way of knowing what this one thing could turn into. There was no Catelyn Stark back then, only the old wolf sitting behind the ancient oak desk, looking at them all with weary eyes.

Not unlike how the woman sitting behind it looked at him right now.

“I wouldn’t have tried contacting you if I had any other choice.” The words cut straight to him and they were no surprise. He chuckled through a smile.

“I’m _flattered_ , Lady Stark.” He said, leaned further back in the chair he was sitting it, visibly making her uncomfortable.

She didn't deign to comment on his words; she only gave him a look he guessed she reserved for her children. Or people who really, _really_ annoyed her.

His smile widened.

“I merely want to illustrate how dire the situation is,” Catelyn said, both of her hands on the clean, flat surface of the desk.

“Dire enough to ask for Lannister’s help.” He pointed out cocking his head to the side, studying her face.

Lady Stark looked away from him, but her hands didn’t move.

“She needs a partner, and a good one, a _very_ good one.” She said, her voice becoming softer, warmer. When she looked back at him, her eyes were changed.

“I don’t dance anymore,” Jaime said. The words felt alien, even if they were true. Those were not his words. Not his choice.

Seemed like it was never really his choice in the end.

“Then why did you come here?”

It was a rhetorical question for him. For her too, he supposed. They both knew the answer and they both didn’t. Neither of them would say anything, he knew.

He was sure she knew what she was getting herself into. Catelyn Stark was not a stupid woman.

She leaned in, her chair creaked. “The competition is in four months, that’s enough time. Five years from now, it’s going to be too late for her. You know this, you’ve been there.”

Jaime couldn’t look away from her, his eyes narrowed. He wondered who this Brienne was, what did she do to gain so much power over Catelyn Stark herself. He wanted to ask.

He didn’t.

“How do you know if they’ll even let her compete? She’s only one half of the pair they invited.” He said instead, a reasonable query, something she must have thought of herself.

“With you by her side, they will let her in.” Catelyn answered, confident.

“It might not work out, we might not match.” He said, kept the ball rolling, wondering if she’ll cave anywhere, if there was something she didn’t think of before their meeting started.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” She said.

_But is she?_

“Does she know?”

“No.” Catelyn retorted, quick, daring him. _Your move_.

Jaime smirked, shook his head just a little, leaned to the side with one arm propping him on the armrest.

“You should have asked her first.”

-

“You’re back!” Arya’s sudden presence made her flinch behind her locker’s door but she managed to compose herself before the girl moved to the other side of her. “I thought you were not coming back.”

Brienne shook her head, looked to the side and down.

“I’m not out of the Academy yet.” She said. “And I still have classes and to teach.” Arya jumped up in place, her face blooming with a smile.

“That’s awesome!” She exclaimed. “That asshole-“

“ _Arya_ ,” Brienne warned.

“What?! _He is_ , isn’t he?” The girl’s eyes flickered with _something._ Anger, perhaps?

Brienne shook her head and sighed deciding to ignore Arya’s question. There was no need to spur this conversation to either side. With anyone, really, but especially with overly brawly thirteen-year-old.

“Grab your stuff and let’s go, or you’ll be late to class as always.” Brienne said, changing the subject and moving away from her locker.

“I’m not always late!” Arya shouted after her before catching up.

“If you say so,” Brienne said.

“I say so.”

They found their way to their allocated room, the rest of her students already awaiting her arrival. Arya run to greet her friends and Brienne went to put her bag on the bench.

She walked to the middle of the room, a few of the older participants were already warming up, and the rest were talking animatedly at the back. Brienne waited for a few moments, looked at the clock – always in her line of vision. She clapped her hands.

“Let’s start.” She said, her voice floating, echoing on the tall walls.

Everyone took their places and she started with the material prepared for that day.

The classes went smoothly and took her mind off of things, like always. The practiced movements, the steps, the choreography.

She thought it would be harder, being in one of the dance rooms, each looking so similar to the other. Each looking almost exactly the same.

But it was not as bad as she feared.

The task as hand and the people around her didn’t let her dwell on anything for long, didn’t let her slip into those harsh memories. Music and laughter filled the remaining space.

It was nice, it was so nice. Because of all that has happened recently, she almost forgot how much she enjoyed this. Just being here, dancing, sharing her passion with other people.

She felt sadder than usual when the clock passed their two hours. But she eased them all off, stretched them out at the end so they would be less sore tomorrow and finally finished her classes like she always did, with a _thank you_ and a smile.

She went to her bag, grabbed a towel and put it over her neck.

“People say Lannister is here,” Aria whispered suddenly appearing next to her. “They saw him up top.”

Brienne’s eyebrows scrunched and she looked up toward the big windows hanging on the walls, touching the room’s ceiling. There was no one there; she could only see some staff and students passing through the corridor on the other side. She looked down toward Arya.

“Maybe they were wrong,” the girl said, still looking up, making a face. Brienne smiled.

“Maybe.” She said.

Arya looked at her and smiled back. She jumped up a little in place, a habit Brienne always deemed as incredibly cute.

“I’m really glad you’re back.” She said and then, in uncharacteristic display of affections, hugged her. It was a short hug, so quick Brienne almost didn’t feel it. But it was nice, and warm and filled Brienne’s heart with affection.

“Thank you,” Brienne said when Arya let go.

The girl nodded once and then bid her goodbye. In no time at all she was out of the room.

Brienne couldn’t help the small laugh slipping past her lips.

She put the towel down; put it in her bag along with a few other things she took out during her class. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and turned around at the same time as Catelyn’s voice reached her from the doors.

“Brienne.” The woman said, hesitant smile playing around the corners of her lips. “If you could come with me to my office please.”

Brienne blinked, her heart speeding up rapidly in her chest. She nodded.

-

She was tall, she was really fucking tall.

And big. Almost as big as him.

Her shoulders stretched wide, her arms extending for days, her legs too. She had short, blonde hair that reached her chin; it waved around her face softly. Her nose was broken once, probably. Her too full lips slipped open when she saw him, leaning on the bookshelf in Catelyn Stark’s office.

When she finally looked into his eyes, the air has been stolen from him all at once.

Her eyes were blue, the bluest blue he has ever seen and they were so beautiful that it was almost comical in comparison to everything else about her. He couldn’t believe those eyes, couldn’t take away his own from the sight. He didn’t want to look away.

“Brienne,” Catelyn’s voice cut right through his bewilderment shaking him off. He looked to the side, “I’d like you to meet Jaime Lannister. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Jaime looked back, blue eyes shifting from Lady Stark’s face toward him once more and he saw a change in them, the hardening. The blue changed its hue, darkened like the sky before the storm. Recognition crept upon her features; he could see the second it happened. As if she didn’t recognize him before, but now, with the name added to his face she _knew_ who he was. She clearly didn’t like it.

And of course, _of course_.

He could feel the heat burning in the pitch of his stomach, left hand clenching unconsciously by his side. He leaned more into the bookshelf, cocking his eyebrow at her, daring her to say something, to utter the words he heard so many times before.

Murderer. Cheater. Oathbreaker.

No integrity. No qualms. No honor.

_A Lannister_.

“I asked him to be your dance partner.” The words felt like a hatchet between the two of them, cutting their connected gaze. Brienne Tarth’s head snapped towards Catelyn. “He agreed.”

“I-, I,” Tarth mumbled, licked her big lips and swallowed slowly, “I don’t understand.”

Jaime snickered from the side, eyes narrowing. The heat was reaching his head now, irking him, burning.

“What’s there to understand?” His voice was sharp. When she looked back at him, he slashed. “I thought you were supposed to be a woman.”

Her pretty fucking eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring.

She turned away from him.

“No.” She said, and her voice was steadier now. “ _Anyone_ but him.”

He clenched his teeth, jaw locking in place but he made himself relax. He took a breath in through his nose before looking at Catelyn almost lazily, hair falling down to the side.

“Brienne,” Catelyn glanced at him for a second and then looked back at the other woman, “there’s no one else.” She said.

“Then no one.”

“ _Brienne_.” It was softer now, resigned. There were so many emotions playing on Catelyn’s Stark face he wasn’t sure how to name each. He glanced between the two women, clearly locked in some kind of silent conversation he wasn’t privy to. “There is no one else,” Catelyn repeated and it felt final, even to him. Like there was no other choice and there would never be after this.

Brienne Tarth took a deep breath in through her parted lips, her eyes flicking to him just for a second. She clenched her fists and he noticed the bruises on her hands, the small cuts.

She didn’t say anything and neither did Catelyn.

And, frankly, he didn’t have the whole day for this. So he straightened, put his right hand into the pocket of his suit.

“Well?” He said, feigning indifference.

-

Catelyn gave them Brienne’s favorite dance room, the one tucked at the very end of the corridor. Much smaller than the others but with better light. And the only one without the glass windows on the top. No one could look in without them knowing.

She was standing, hidden in the shadow of the entry’s alcove. Lannister had his back turned away from her, he was bandaging his right hand with white tape. His head bowed a little, his beautiful hair falling down softly. His broad back was straight, muscles stretching under the too-tight white t-shirt, under his golden skin.

Brienne hated that he was so beautiful, hated that she noticed. Hated that next to him she would look like a hulking beast, like some kind of a monster.

_I thought you were supposed to be a woman._

Fucking asshole.

How was she supposed to dance with him?

There was no way they would look good together and in heels, she would tower over him too.

“You can come out now.” His voice carried on the tall walls, reached the ceiling bounced from it, and fell down. His tone was annoying, and so sure and Brienne just-

She moved toward him, threw her gym bag on the floor next to his feet, a little too forcefully perhaps. He didn’t even flinch. He just looked up at her, his mouth turning into a smirk, green eyes sparkling.

“We wait for Professor Stark and Margery,” Brienne said, looking straight at him.

He moved his head slightly to the side, hair falling into his eyes, looking like some kind of a model ready for his photo to be taken. He tapped the inside of his palm and chuckled.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, that stupid smirk widening on his handsome face.

She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest.

“You wish, _Lannister_.” She said.

“Do I?” He asked, one perfect eyebrow arching up. She didn’t know what was that supposed to mean. He was probably playing with her, trying to pull her into some weird verbal game. She wouldn’t be subjected to that. She refused to.

She kept her mouth shut, threw him a glance she hoped looked menacing enough.

He chuckled at that, because of course, he would, and Brienne’s blood boiled from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.

“Let’s dance.” He said, turning fully toward her, straightening up. He was just as tall as she was. It was a little unsettling, looking into his eyes like that. “I don’t think we need babysitters, do you?”

“We were asked to wait.” She snapped, ignoring his comment.

He shook his head, green eyes traveling around the room.

“Put some music on at least,” he said, “I don’t know how to work this thing.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the sound system hidden behind the walls.

Brienne looked at him, bit the inside of her cheek softly but decided it would be no harm to indulge him in this one thing. She pulled out her phone, scrolled through the list of her recent songs and picked one at random.

The music blared through the walls and Lannister looked at her with something akin to satisfaction.

And then, he was right in her personal space.

Her head snapped up and she moved backward on an instinct, avoiding him, keeping the space between them. He moved again, to the beat of the music, his feet forcing her to mirror him in reverse.

He pushed and pushed into her, and she reacted each time without hesitation, the heat boiling inside of her once again. The smirk turned into a satisfied smile on his face, his forest-green eyes gleaming with excitement.

Brienne gritted her teeth.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” She spat, but she still moved away from him when he advanced on her. Just like he wanted. With every step, he forced her feet to match with his own. “Stop this.”

“You can stop anytime,” Lannister said, lips smiling.

Brienne huffed, annoyed. Moved away from him, turned around hoping to lose him, to push him out of the tempo, to make him lose his step.

None of that happened, he was right there in front of her when she turned back around.

“ _Stop this_.” She hissed through her teeth, still moving, the song playing around them, waving, making them _play_.

“What?” He said, feigning innocence, clearly amused with her.

It felt like a competition now, whoever stumbles first, loses.

They both knew the steps well, _Dorne’s Standard_ slithering around them, through them, smooth and alluring.

And he was good.

She _knew_ he was good. She saw his performances too many times probably; she knew he moved with grace and swiftness, with sharp charm. She knew he could lead, she _saw_ it.

It was so much different when he was right in front of her, when he made her react to him, to answer him, to _dance_ with him.

And she did, she gave up so easily but it felt so good, _too good_. It never felt like this before.

She couldn’t help but wonder, was it him? Was it them? What was so much different about this?

She had no answers.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

Suddenly the music stopped and so did they.

She was out of breath, heart beating wildly in her chest, lungs working in overdrive as she looked at him, as she kept looking at him.

Lannister smiled at her, wide and toothy, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

She almost, _almost_ smiled back.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” Margery’s voice echoed, traveled toward them and Brienne’s head snapped around toward where her friend stood next to Catelyn.

She gave them a nod and that was that.

-

He felt alive.

He felt alive for the first time, in what felt like a very, very long while.

His blood flowed, muscles burned with remaining energy, with the memory of their steps, of the surge of excitement when they moved, when he understood, when he _knew_.

Dancing with Cersei was natural; it was easy with no second thoughts. It was like breathing or walking. It was there, it was obvious.

Dancing with Brienne was something else.

She was the wind, slipping through his fingers, moving about him, around him. Reacting to him but never sure, never _solid_. They both knew the steps, knew the movements but he still wasn’t certain if she would follow through. Even if he _knew_ she would, he wasn’t convinced of it and it kept him on the edge.

He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel with his arms around her, with her muscles beneath his fingers, with her hand in his. If it would feel more solid then, if it would feel different.

“Why so quiet, brother?” Tyrion’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

Jaime glanced to the side, mismatched eyes studying him. He reached for his drink.

“Thinking.” He said, took a sip.

“Happy thoughts, judging by your face.” Tyrion smiled, tapped on the side of the wine glass he was holding in his hand.

Jaime moved in his seat, looked around the small restaurant they were sitting in. Warm April air breezed around the soft buzz of the conversations, of people laughing, of cutlery clinking on the porcelain plates. He turned his head more fully toward his brother.

“I’m going to the WPDC this year.” He said.

Tyrion laughed, red liquid waving on the see-through walls, like the small alcoholic sea. He put his glass down, shook his head.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am _very_ serious,” Jaime said, smirk turning up on the corner of his lips.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, shook his head once more.

“ _This_ is why she wanted you?” He said, eyebrows raising. “So you could dance for her in the most prestigious dance competition in the world?” He reached back for his glass, drank from it, his eyes dancing with mirth when he pulled it away from his lips. “Excuse me for saying, but this doesn’t add up. I thought she hated you even more than she hated our father?”

Jaime chuckled.

“That is still probably correct.”

Tyrion shook his head.

“I honestly thought she wanted to piss you off, or bribe you,” Tyrion mulled over, lips twitching. He leaned forward in his chair, arms on the table, “or…, I don’t know. Maybe _humiliate_ you in some way? I did not expect this.”

Jaime sighed, turned his now empty glass around in his left hand.

“You and me both.”

There was a silence between them now. Someone on the table a few feet away spilled their drink, people around laughed, waitress hurried toward them.

“Why did you agree?” Tyrion asked. “I thought you were done?” His eyes were somber, full of other questions they both knew he wouldn’t ask.

Jaime looked to the side; put his glass on the table between them and then pulled his hand slightly up to get their waiter’s attention.

He looked down at his brother.

“Because father asked me to.” He said.

“ _Fuck,_ Jaime.”

“Yeah.”

Tyrion sighed.

“Do you even want to do it?” He asked.

“Does it matter?”

-

Brienne sat in the Stark’s big kitchen, by the white marble counter, slicing tomatoes for the salad. Her movements were monotone, precise. Sansa and Arya were arguing about some boy not too far away from her, Jon was peeling cucumbers with a frown. Catelyn stood near the stove checking on the meat, Rickon by her side.

It wasn’t weird anymore how at home she felt with them, how comfortable it all was, how the Sunday usually meant she will eat dinner at the Stark’s house.

They made quick work of it, the girls finished the salad, seasoning it with gusto and they were sitting by the table in no time at all. Jon said a prayer to the old gods and they ate, conversation flowing easily between them.

Brienne always reveled in it. She never really experienced big family, her mother and siblings dying before she could even remember them properly, there was always only her father and her.

Here, there were six of them around the Stark’s table, and the voices mixed pleasantly, laughter floated above, food was shared with ease. They talked about anything and everything. About Sansa’s new music teacher, Arya’s renewed interest in football team, Rickon’s improving art. Jon shyly revealed he got a part-time job at the bookshop a ten-minute walk away from the Academy.

They’ve spent the afternoon together too, playing games and enjoying warm April weather in the vast garden. It was all like stepping into a different life for a while. It was soothing; it took her away from everything for a while.

Soon, there was only her and Catelyn on the patio, lounging in the comfortable chairs, covered in blankets, drinking woman’s favorite rose.

Brienne was looking up at the sky, enjoying the sight more apparent here, further away from the center of King’s Landing.

She took a deep breath in, cool air filling her lungs. She looked at Catelyn.

“How did you do it?” She asked, finally finding the courage to do so. “How did you make him agree?”

Catelyn looked at her, blinked, sighed loudly and looked away. She drank from her glass burying further into the blankets around her.

“I talked with his father.” The woman said finally, looking somewhere into the garden.

“Catelyn,” Brienne whispered, chest tightening. Catelyn looked at her.

“ _Brienne_.” She said back, drank again from her glass. “It was nothing.” She said after a while and Brienne shook her head.

She knew it wasn’t nothing. She knew the Stark-Lannister feud ran old and deep, that it was only ever renewed with each generation.

She knew that Catelyn likely paid a price for Jaime Lannister’s compliance.

Brienne didn’t like the thought of that one bit.

“Brienne, _please_ , don’t think about it,” Catelyn said, her voice floating softly through the space between them. “It was nothing compared to what you’ve done.”

_This again_ , Brienne thought. She grimaced, uneasy as usual when the topic arose. She moved about in her chair, shook her head.

“ _Catelyn_ -,” she sighed.

“Please,” the woman interrupted, putting her hand up in the air, “I would do the same for all of my children.” She looked her straight in the eyes. “Let me do this for you.” She added and then smiled. “Besides, I didn’t have to part with anything I’ll ever miss.”

Brienne bit the inside of her cheek, her chest warmed with so many emotions, eyes glazing over. She blinked chasing the tears away.

Catelyn reached her hand toward her and Brienne took it in her own, gave it a soft squeeze and received one in return.

“Thank you,” Brienne whispered.

“Thank _you_ , dear,” Catelyn answered with a smile.

-

Margery started them with _Rosebloom Classic_ , which, _of course_ she would, being a Tyrell.

It wasn’t a bad choice, but Jaime’s blood still hummed with the memory of the _Sand Snake_ , of how Brienne moved with him, how her blue eyes shone with the challenge of his steps.

This time she was more fidgety, more nervous somehow.

She eyed him from the other side of the room while he rewrapped his right hand with white tape. She kept looking at him when he secured it, when he tapped on its end, in the middle of his palm, a few times to make sure it wouldn’t come off.

He watched her from under his eyebrows, head bowed down a little so it wouldn’t be so obvious. Tyrion would laugh his face off if he knew. Jaime smirked and that’s when she turned away from him, finally giving her full attention to Margery.

When they finally met in the middle of the room, she reached toward him with the standard hold, waiting for him to fit around her, to touch her for the very first time.

He slid closer, still keeping the proper distance _Rosebloom_ required of them, but her eyes didn’t meet his as he expected and he thought that that wouldn’t do. So he grabbed her wrist softly, instead of cradling her palm into his left hand as he should.

That caught her attention, eyes finally snapping toward him, sharp and clear and so, _so_ blue.

“This is not the proper hold.” She told him as if he didn’t already know. As if _she_ didn’t know that he knew.

He chuckled.

“How perceptive of you.” He said, moved his thumb gently over the soft skin of her wrist.

She wrangled her arm out of his hold almost hitting him in the face.

He laughed, couldn’t help himself.

Redness bloomed upon her face and her pretty eyes kept shooting daggers at him as if he wronged her in some inexcusable way.

“ _Lannister_.” Margery’s voice boomed from the side. When he looked at her, she was shaking her head. He winked at her, amused.

He might have some fun, after all.

-

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He said, never looking up at her, continuing taping his hand slowly. The tape was blue today and it…, _well_ , Brienne wasn’t sure why it made her feel anything at all, really. It was just a tape, nothing more.

He looked up at her when she didn’t say anything, eyebrows rising, questioning. He never joked before this ritual of his was complete, before he tapped on the end of the tape – always in the middle of his palm – a few times. She wondered why that was, if it meant anything at all.

She doubted she’d ever ask.

She turned around without a word, walked to Margery who was already shuffling through her phone, no doubt looking for yet another bizarre song she dug up for them for that day. _You don’t know what kinda music they’re gonna play out there, you need to be prepared for the weirdest shit –_ her friend reasoned, and Brienne couldn’t really argue with that logic. She also really enjoyed seeing Lannister’s disgusted face every time Margery played something positively awful. It was a sight to see.

They already moved to the _Winterfell Slow_ , with its closer hold and a bit faster steps.

Brienne couldn’t help admiring Lannister’s technique, his skills. As much as she disagreed with the whole of him, with what he’s done, with what everyone said that he was, she couldn’t deny him this; he was as skilled as they painted him out to be.

She didn’t think he liked her, but she didn’t like him either, so it was an even field in the end. Odds not weighing to one side nor the other.

But always, before the dance, there was some kind of weariness in his eyes. The way the greens followed her, quietly from under his perfectly shaped eyebrows, as if trying to read her, trying to gauge something or other from her. Like if he wondered what she would do and how well he could possibly prepare for it.

She wasn’t sure what to think of that, when he was so quick, so witty. Jabs falling from his lips with ease. She had no idea how she could have possibly ever have any kind of advantage over him.

They met in the middle, some kind of agreed-upon notion between them. He pulled out his hold, back straight, head tilting to the side, smirk already playing on his lips, noticing her hesitance.

“ _Please_ , do take up even more of my time Tarth.” He said, green eyes scanning her.

The soft, hot pang resided in her chest and she huffed at him before slowly moving into the hold, refusing to look at him. She put her hand into his palm delicately, felt his hand sliding on her back.

“And stop with that face, it only makes you uglier.” He said, and her eyes snapped at him, narrowing. The hot pang ignited and was only feed up more when he smirked, green eyes full of mirth.

She hated that he enjoyed it, that it was so easy for him to get a rouse out of her when so many others failed.

She didn’t know what it was about him, his words were nothing she hadn’t heard before but somehow they _fell_ differently. They slipped on some side of her, where she wasn’t prepared, and wormed inside right to the very core of her.

She didn’t like it.

She thought he knew.

“Margery, put the music on,” Brienne said, sounding exasperated even to her own ears, looking over Lannister’s shoulder at her friend. Ignoring his chuckle, ignoring his warm breath caressing her skin.

-

_King’s Landing Step_ was always Cersei’s favorite and Jaime could not stop thinking about her when he danced with Brienne, couldn’t stop remembering how it all was before.

Before his father decided to _finally_ interfere into their lives again, before the incident, before the lies, before Aerys. Before Cersei spoke to him more than once a year, before he stopped wanting to talk to her at all.

Before it all went to shit, before all things he ever loved fallen from his grasp.

“What is your problem today, Lannister?” Brienne said, stopping them abruptly, moving away from him, hands _so close_ to pushing him away.

He frowned, surprised by her anger, by her pretty blue eyes darkening right before his eyes.

He rolled his neck, shook his head at her just a little. Couldn’t believe her.

“What is my problem? What the fuck if your problem, _Tarth_?!”

She crossed her arms over her chest, looked up like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He ground his teeth, heart speeding in his ears alongside the hot, burning pulsing, moving through his veins.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She said under her breath but he heard her loud and clear, especially since Margery stopped the song they were dancing to just seconds ago.

“What did you say?” He asked, leaning in, moving closer to her. He narrowed his eyes, gaze never flickering from her own. “What’s your deal? Let’s hear it!”

“ _Guys_ ,” Margery said from the side, concerned, warning them. But Jaime didn’t even notice, locked into the blue storm in Brienne’s eyes.

“You’re unfocused, you almost tripped me! I do not need an injury right now!”

“ _Oh_ , and that won’t help?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she huffed.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Sure.” He agreed. “And you’re ugly. What’s your point?”

Her face was red, her chest heaving with each breath now. From dancing with him, from arguing with him. Her plump lips were parted, hair in dismay.

The flash of something else run right through him, slithering side by side with his anger. He felt his heart clench, his fingers tingling. His chest burning with something he hasn’t felt in a long while. In a long, long while.

She licked her lips, eyes falling to his mouth.

He moved half a step, _an invisible step_. She moved back.

He caught himself then, both hands clenching into fists, his right protesting against the movement, sending sobering pain through his arm.

“ _Fuck this_ ,” he said, his voice loud and clear in otherwise silent room, “I’m out of here.”

He turned around and walked away.

-

She didn’t like fittings; they always made her uneasy, no matter how many people were with her in the room. One, two, twenty.

It was easier not to think when she danced, when she moved.

Standing in the middle of the room, being looked at, she was too aware of herself. She was too aware of her ungainly body, of her broad shoulders, muscular arms. Her thick thighs, too long legs. Face that wasn’t soft and feminine, hands that weren’t small or pretty.

Her face was red, getting redder with every comment, every command.

“Could you please put your hand up?”

Of course she could, but it was a hard thing to do, awkward and embarrassing.

Especially with Jaime Lannister in a room, looking at her.

And she knew he was looking, even if she wasn’t looking at him, too busy studying the wooden floor beneath her feet.

She could feel his eyes on her. She tried very hard not to fidget.

“Thanks, now to the side,” Loras said, voice all businesslike while he measured her and did whatever else he had to do to make this work. _A lot_ , she guessed.

One of her father’s friends once told her that sewing for her was too much trouble and no satisfaction. She always thought about it now, even when she wanted to buy a plain white shirt in men’s section.

“Maybe fuchsia?” Margery said looking over the materials that laid down on the table somewhere off to the side. “I heard it’s all in nowadays.”

“Everything is always in,” Loras mumbled, kneeling down by Brienne’s feet, getting himself in her line of vision.

“Sure,” Margery said, almost bored “but this one is _in_ in.”

“No.”

Jaime’s voice cut between Tyrell's siblings with ease and Brienne’s head snapped up and to the side toward where he was sitting on Loras’ huge, white sofa.

“ _Excuse me_?” Margery asked, amusement ringing in her voice like fairy laughter from this one show Brienne loved as a kid.

“No to fuchsia,” he said, nonchalant, looking straight at them, “put her in blue,” he added and then looked up, right at her. His forest-green eyes burning a hole in her, making her heart jump in her chest, making her pulse quicken, “she will look good in blue.”

She wasn’t sure if she was breathing, wasn’t sure if she was holding her breath.

She blinked and Jaime shrugged as if it meant nothing at all. Just an opinion no one asked him for, just a thing that didn’t really matter.

“All right.” Loras said and she looked down at him, catching his searching, curious gaze.

-

Their babysitter had a day off.

Honestly, Jaime wasn’t sure why Margery was even around. She didn’t really have much to do while they worked together, while they danced trying to get used to each other. _Sure_ , she pointed a few things out here and there and it was nice to have a second opinion, a look from the outside at the two of them, but her presence wasn’t necessary all of the time.

But maybe they were all afraid he would do something stupid, like lash out at her? Or try and punch her, even though he never punched a woman ever in his entire life. Maybe they always wanted to have a second pair of eyes, _just in case_ if he did something and there was no one to put on the stand but Brienne and him.

It was stupid, but his reputation didn't only precede him, it was always, _always_ there to stay.

He was used to it by now, build a system for it, felt fine with it.

He didn’t like that it suddenly started to bother him with Brienne.

“Let’s go out.” He said, shaking his own thoughts from his head, looking on while Brienne put her bag on the bench next to him.

She turned her face toward him, her light blonde hair caressing her cheek. Her eyebrows scrunched just a little.

She had freckles on her nose, _freckles._ Why hasn’t he noticed before?

“ _What?_ ” She asked, clearly confused.

“Let’s go out.” He repeated, tapping the end of the tape he just finished rewrapping. “Let’s have fun. We deserve some rest, c’mon.”

“Why?”

“I said. To have fun.” He chuckled, looked into her confused eyes. “You do know what that is, right? _Fun_?”

She huffed at him, in this way he started finding weirdly charming, as if she thought he was an idiot and she knew he was playing with her.

And he was, couldn’t deny it. It was really entertaining teasing her, finding out which word would make her squirm at any given time.

He took up his own bag, moved toward the exit.

“Let’s go! Text some of your friends to meet as at _Lion’s Den_.” He said, turned around near the door, and looked at her unmoving form. “ _Move_ Brienne, we need a day off.”

He walked out, knew she would follow him.

And she did, cursing his name under her breath.

-

The club was packed and she really should have expected that on a Friday evening. Lannister grabbed her by her wrist before they went in and he dragged her inside, not letting go until they got to the bar and slid between some already drunk people.

He ordered a beer, she ordered a scotch.

Brienne looked around, noticing the tables, a few booths and a vast dancefloor sitting somewhere down at the back of the club. It was a nice place, dark but warm. It somehow felt intimate, as much as any club could feel intimate.

“It’s nice.” She said, for a lack of anything else to say.

She was not sure why they were here. He said _fun_ , but she didn’t know how it had to involve her, of all people. They could have an evening off, she wasn’t opposed to that, in fact, she kind of needed it. With all their training, classes she had to attend and the ones she still had to teach she was stretched pretty thin.

“And so we meet at last.” The voice came sudden from her side and she turned around to look at the man sitting on the stool next to where she was leaning on the bar.

His face was familiar, smile slowly booming on the handsome face, his eyes two different colors. Only after her initial surprise did she notice that he was a dwarf.

“Tyrion Lannister,” the man said, pulling his head toward her, “and you’re Brienne I’m guessing. The blue-eyed giant dancer.”

_Jaime’s brother_. Made sense she thought he looked familiar. She shook his hand, gave him a tight smile.

“You sure are fucking tall,” Tyrion added craning his neck with a chuckle. He then leaned to the side. “Hiding?” He said, his tone mocking.

“I wish I could, but it never works.” Jaime moved from behind her, took a sip from his beer.

“Glad you finally made it,” Tyrion said, “Addam and Bronn are in the booth already. Some friends of yours joining us Brienne?” Tyrion asked looking at her once again.

She nodded her head.

“I think so, they said they’ll be here.”

Tyrion smiled, wide and honest. She didn’t know why exactly, but he liked him already.

“Good!”

“We will wait for them here.” Jaime decided and Brienne looked at him finding herself nodding along to his idea. It was the best vantage point, in any case.

“Okay, find us later, Jaime knows where,” Tyrion said, slid gracefully from the stool and moved through the crowd with ease.

They didn’t wait long, Tysha, Pod and Pia came in just a few minutes after Tyrion left them alone at the bar and Brienne felt something akin to relief when she saw their faces.

They wandered over to the booth and sat down around after brief introductions.

The evening stretched in front of them, it was easy to laugh at the jokes, to listen to the stories, to have _fun_. It was nice, nicer than Brienne expected.

She felt herself relax, her shoulders falling down just a little, and then Jaime leaned down close to her.

“Let’s dance.” He whispered in her ear. His breath caressed her ear and she could feel goosebumps forming on her arms.

She turned her head toward him, his face so close to her now, eyes almost black in the faint lights of the club.

“I thought we had a day off.” She found herself saying, emboldened by the alcohol floating in her veins.

“We do.” He said, words falling toward her lips. He was so close, he was _too_ close. “Let’s dance.”

He took her wrist in his hand and she didn’t resist him. She followed as he led her toward the dancefloor.

There was a song playing she didn’t recognize, but under its beat, she recognized the _Shadow's Flame_ easily, when she looked at Jaime she knew he recognized it too.

He took her in his arms without hesitation, and she fell into him without much thought. The music flowed around them and they moved, just like each and every time before.

She couldn’t help but wonder still, how easy it was, dancing with him. How their bodies fit to the figures, even with her, being as tall as she was. But he was tall too and he looked straight into her eyes with ease.

He turned her around, dipped her back and she laughed, back in his arms once more. He laughed with her, quick and easy, and _free_. She couldn’t stop smiling, shook her head at her own silliness and at his.

She was glad they went out to have fun.

-

“Why are you so nervous, Brienne?” Jaime asked, looking over at her, pacing down around Margery who was going through her phone – no wonder looking for the most atrocious song she could possibly find for them.

Brienne didn’t even look at him.

So he walked closer, caught her wrist in his hand softly and she stopped, looked at him as if surprised he was even there. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away from him.

“ _Hey_ ,” he said, “talk to me.”

She swallowed, looked down at where he touched her for a second then back up into his eyes. She bit her mouth, tugged her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I-, I…,” she faltered, sighed, looked away from him again, “I don’t really like _East_ _Standards_ that much.” She said finally, he started rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. She took a deep breath. “ _Dothraki’s, Dragon_ or _Spy_ they are just-, they’re so _quick_.” She looked at him still tugging at her lip. “And Hyle always said I’m-“

“Fuck that guy,” Jaime said, eyebrows furrowed. “You had no problems with _Shadow’s Flame_ nor with the _Spider_ we danced after.”

“You danced the _Spider_?” Margery asked from the side but he ignored her.

“I’ve seen you dance Brienne, I have no doubts you’re good at those ones too.”

He nodded his head to emphasize his point. She nodded back at him.

“Okay.” She said, still unsure.

He was going to fucking kill that Hyle guy for putting whatever doubt was residing inside of her chest now. Because there was no way she had any problems with _East Standards_ , he had seen her dance, seen the precision, the perfection in every movement.

Maybe she wasn’t as quick on her feet as he was, maybe she wasn’t as light, but that didn’t mean she was _bad_ in any sort of way _._ She had so many more things going for her and he couldn’t imagine that with her determination, she was anything else but great at everything she decided to pursue. _Especially_ when it came to dance.

Jaime smiled at her, gave her wrist a light squeeze.

“Let’s see how it goes, shall we?”

-

June this year was incredibly hot, the sun sent down wave after wave of scorching heat. Brienne didn’t want to think what July would bring.

She laid by the side of the pool in Stark’s house. Rickon, Arya and Jon playing in the water while Sansa talked with Catelyn, both sprawled on the grass a few feet away from them. She looked up at the sky, soft clouds moving lazily above her. She couldn’t stop her mind from straying toward Tarth.

She imagined the blue, cool waters moving about her, could almost feel the soft breeze of the sea on her face. Could almost see the tall green grass moving with the wind.

Could almost hear her father’s deep voice calling out to her.

She missed it, she missed _him_.

She hasn’t seen him in close to a year now and the short phone calls they had never satisfied her yearning. She wanted to run toward him, just like she did so many times being a little girl, she wanted to bury herself in his embrace. He was probably the only person who could still make her feel small and she missed it. She missed it all.

“Hey Brienne!” There was water dripping onto her face and when she opened her eyes, she looked right into Arya’s smiling ones. “Come play with us.” The girl said.

Brienne smiled and nodded, and leaned on her side to slip gracefully into the water.

-

It was a stressful week at the office; his father was pushing on them hard. A few offers fell down, a contractor backed out and tensions were running high.

It was the first time he saw Tyrion this week, and their offices were two doors down.

“I need vacation.” Tyrion sighed, leaning back in his chair on the top floors’ outdoor lounge. Jaime nodded, reaching for his ice-cold water.

“We all need vacation,” Addam said, cutting into his takeout meat thing. “If we’re even alive after all this.”

Tyrion chuckled, shook his head.

“I’m good,” Bronn said, pushing some bread into his mouth.

“You’re always good.” Tyrion pointed out with one eyebrow raised up.

Jaime smiled, pulled both of his hands over his neck, tried to enjoy this short break in their tight schedule, tried to enjoy the soft wind dancing around the lounge on this damn hot day.

“Jaime?” Addam said, drawing him back into the conversation.

Jaime sighed.

“Yeah,” he drawled, “after everything I think I’ll need a month or two.”

“With Brienne?” Tyrion’s voice was quick as always and Jaime’s wandering eyes fell down on him right after the words left his mouth. Something stirred in his chest but he decided to ignore it, instead, he raised his eyebrows.

“What’s Brienne got do to with this?” He asked.

Tyrion shrugged, as if he didn’t know _exactly_ what he was doing. Little fucker.

“Oh, I don’t know, you two looked pretty cozy on the dancefloor in my club.”

“True that.” Bronn jabbed in, unnecessarily.

Jaime glared at him but Bronn only raised his eyebrows up as if saying: _what the fuck you want from me Lannister?_ He probably was thinking that too.

“What about you and Tysha?” Addam cut in and, _bless him_ really, always on Jaime’s side.

“That’s a low blow.” Tyrion laughed, but he didn’t really seem bothered by it in the end.

“What? I think we’re all a bit curious.” Addam said. “Is eternal Lannister playboy finally going steady?”

They all laughed at that, Tyrion shaking his head.

“Might be.” He said finally, looking down at his hands, eyes almost shy.

“ _Little brother_.” Jaime said, warmth soaring in his chest, the happiness at his brother’s clear joy.

“What?” Tyrion said, finally looking up, face still smiling, mischief in his eyes. “She bakes really great cakes!”

-

They moved much easier through those dreaded _East Standards_ than she anticipated. But it still took her some time, getting rid of the awkwardness with their initial hold.

She was uneasy when they stood so close without moving, his green eyes boring into hers. She wasn’t sure what it was that she felt when she looked at him, when _he_ looked at her. But she guessed it was probably nothing good. Nothing good _for her_ , at least.

Quick tempo seemed to be a blessing in the end and Margery nodded approvingly at them every time. Jaime threw her his annoying, all-knowing smiles.

_I told you, you were good_. He kept saying, as if she didn’t hear him the first time.

“I don’t think he’s coming today,” Margery said, standing next to where Brienne was sitting on the bench. She looked at the clock on the wall. He was almost forty minutes late. “I have to go, I’m sorry. Don’t wait up for him.”

Brienne nodded and Margery bid her goodbye and disappeared through the exit but Brienne was worried, and she _knew_ she would wait. Because Jaime was never late and he never missed even one of their meetings. And she couldn’t call him because she didn’t have his phone number and it was the first full weekend off they were supposed to get since they started this over three months ago. And she wouldn’t know if he was okay and-

She stood up, took a deep breath in through her mouth. Turned around.

And then he was there, right behind her, head cocked to the side looking at her.

“Where’s Margery?” He asked, as if he wasn’t almost an hour late to their two-hour sessions.

But Brienne was too stunned with his sudden appearance do _not_ answer.

“She had to go out and you where an-,“ she looked down and stopped in her tracks, noticing his bloodied hands. The tape red instead of white, “Jaime, what happened to your hands?!” She said, moving closer toward him, taking both of his hands into her own.

He flexed his fingers slightly, a grimace of pain on his face.

"Some guy's face fell into it." He said then chuckled, as if an afterthought.

Brienne looked up and there were his green eyes, looking straight at her. She shook her head, led him toward the bench and pushed him a little so he would sit down. She reached into her bag where she always had her small first aid, a habit she picked up very early on.

She reached out toward his right hand but he flinched and she stopped, looking up at him again. He didn’t say anything for a long while, just stared at her face. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, wasn’t sure if there was anything to find there but then he finally nodded, just a small bob of his head, pretty hair falling into his pretty eyes.

She reached for his right hand again, touched the closure of the soft tape – the place he always tapped on – pulled it away. It was slow, unraveling it, blood soaking through the thin material. She could hear his breath, could feel the heat of his body sitting on the bench, hands on her lap.

His hand was scarred, horribly so, with valleys and mountains crisscrossing irregularly. Some of the skin still looked fresh, _new_. Some looked weird, not like a skin at all. There were two, dark lines underneath and she touched it with her fingertip.

“What happened?” She asked, so softly she wasn’t sure he even heard.

But he did.

“Some guy’s face fell into it.” He repeated and she looked up at him, eyes meeting his right away. He liked his lips. “More or less.” He added, apprehensively.

She nodded, didn’t push him, looked down once more. Fresh cuts looked more like some stage makeup than a real thing at this point. She poured the antiseptic on a clean gauze and dabbed at the blood, cleaning his hands slowly.

They didn’t talk as she worked, didn’t talk as she put some cream on both of his hands. Didn’t talk as she covered his left hand with a few band-aids. Didn’t talk as she delicately – as delicately as she could – rewrapped his right hand in tape.

When she was done, he took her wrist into his left hand, thumb moving slowly on the soft skin inside.

“Thank you.” He said into the silent room and she nodded her head with a smile.

-

_Dorne’s Standard_.

This is what started this whole thing, wasn’t it?

The dance/no-dance thing he forced onto her. He almost dreaded the day they would dance it again, dance it _properly_ this time. He dreaded it as much as he craved it.

They moved into the hold before the music even started, he could feel Brienne tremble softly when she leaned close on his chest, when her face touched the side of his.

He cradled her right hand in his left, thumb falling on the inside of her wrist, her soft skin there, her pulse point.

Margery put a slow song on, to start them off, nice and easy, unlike the one they danced first. They moved in basic figures, basic steps. Not much flourishes, just so they could feel, so they could see how it would move for them. They had time, they had all the time.

It did move smoothly, just like with every dance prior.

And she was like a wind still, even in this. A soft breeze this time, barely there but present, caressing his skin with shyness.

His eyes were closed, enjoying the movement, the way she answered to him, the way she _spoke_ to him with her steps. Her soft breath grazed his skin, her heart beating steadily under his thumb.

Their bodies moved together, in tandem, to the slow tune, in no hurry to get to the end, enjoying the journey itself.

He felt lost in it, lost in her. Her smell, her heat, the way she drifted about in his arms, so close to him.

It was almost painful to pull away when the music finally stopped, but her astonishing blue eyes found him right away, grounded him in the moment.

She was here with him too.

“ _Fuck me_.” Margery whispered from the side, alerting them to her presence again and Brienne’s gaze slid from his’ reluctantly.

“I guess that’s good.” She said and smiled, looking back at him once more.

_Yeah_ , he thought, _that was definitely good_.

-

It was here.

It was _already_ here.

She couldn’t believe how quickly the past four months had passed; it felt like no time at all between Hyle and Jaime and _here_. It felt like no time at all, but it also felt like years.

And now here she stood, in front of the huge stadium in Sunspear, Dorne at the biggest, most exclusive and most renounced dance event in the world. The only event that could make her whole career soar.

And she was here, Jaime Lannister by her side.

“We should get ourselves checked in, get our keys.” He said, standing next her. “I think they might want to cook us alive.”

She looked away from the stadium then and at his face, no sign of any discomfort present. He looked like he always did, shirt crisp and pressed, pushed into the belt of immaculate, light trousers. Soft fair falling to one side, into his green, green eyes that smiled at her with amusement. His handsome face tanned, as if he was already coming from vacation by the beach. It was almost unfair how good he looked.

And he dared to tell her that he was cooking alive?

“You’ll be red as a lobster if we spend even a second longer here.” He said, smiling and Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. She pushed into him with his shoulder when she moved past him.

“Hey!” He called after her but she ignored him, walking toward the main entrance of the welcome center.

They got written down and got the keys to – what turned out to be – a whole apartment. With two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and a bathroom to share. They even had a balcony with a view of the bay.

Jaime didn’t look too phased by it, he threw his bags into one of the rooms leaving her the other one. He walked straight into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“I’d kill for a shower.” He said, sighing loudly, while Brienne disposed of her bags into the room that he left her. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, she opened it up.

“There’s no time.” She said, walking out of the room and meeting Jaime in the corridor. “Margery just texted, she grabbed us a table at some restaurant, asked us to meet her there.”

Jaime groaned but he moved toward the entrance.

“Let’s go then.” He said, pulling on the door handle with a little too much force.

-

The restaurant had an incredible view of the bay, he had to give Margery some points, she knew how to pick a place. It almost felt as if they were right on the open sea, eating dinner no less.

“So, they divided this to three days, per usual.” The woman said, motioning to them with her gold fork. “First day they’re doing _West Standards_ , then the _Easts_.” She plopped a part of some pink fish into her mouth, she chewed slowly then swallowed and washed it down with some white wine. “The crown jewel is the _Sand Snake_ , of course.”

Of course.

“No surprises then.” He said, taking a bite of his own fish. It was really good. He forgot how much he liked seafood from Dorne.

“No surprises,” Margery repeated, looking at him. She waited for a bit and when he didn’t say anything else, she continued. “I didn’t manage to get any music titles out of anyone, so I think that no one really knows. _Even_ Martell.”

Brienne moved in the chair next to him, grabbed her glass of water.

His eyes flickered back to Margery.

“It’s _Dorne_ ,” Jaime said, “they would likely play to his favor.”

Margery nodded.

“Which means?” Brienne asked and Jaime turned toward her. She was gripping her fork a little too tightly, knuckles white

“That _Wests_ would be fast, and _Easts_ would be faster.” He said.

“ _Damn_ ,” Brienne whispered under her breath, bit on her lip, looked away from him.

Jaime reached for her wrist, thumb stroking the skin slowly.

She let him, looked back at him. Her face softened, eyebrows less furrowed than before.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said, trying to put as much confidence into his voice as he could.

Brienne nodded and sighed and looked away again.

She didn’t move her hand away from his hold though, and he counted that as a sign of hope.

He tried to ignore Margery’s curious glance.

-

It was going to be a long day, she knew that from the moment she opened her eyes.

There were twenty pairs on for today, divided into four groups. Jaime and she were in third.

The bed she was sleeping in was stupidly comfortable, and bit too, but she couldn’t stay in it for long, too restless to be able to be stuck in one place.

She made coffee, ate some partiers she found on the table, walked out onto the balcony. Then she went to have a shower, dried her hair. Then text from Margery came and she walked towards Jaime’s room. His door was still closed.

She knocked.

Nothing.

She knocked again.

“I’m awake.” It came out mumbled and so Brienne pushed on the handle and walked in.

He was laying on his bed, face down, sprawled around, taking all of the space. He wore no shirt, muscles rippling under his skin when he moved to prop himself on his eyebrows so he could look up at her.

“What’s up?” He asked, voice still a bit hoarse and she could feel the heat running through her, and _shit_ she did not need this right now.

She tried not to stare but it was hard, he looked like a painting, or a statue or _something_. It wasn’t fair.

She cleared her throat and he smirked. _Of course_ he noticed her looking, damn him.

“Margery texted. She says she will be here in ten minutes with the make-up and hair and whatnot so-,“ she stopped, glanced away from him and then back. She rubbed her face, “ _just…_ , don’t be naked.” She said because really, she had no way of knowing he wasn’t.

He laughed and she huffed, walked out of his room closing the door with a thud.

Margery came in barging, in a hurry already. They pulled her away for hair and make-up and her friend fretted over the state of her dress. Which was beautiful, really.

Brienne didn’t know that much about fashion, but the dress flowed down, it was long and looked soft as clouds itself. And it was blue, just like Jaime said it should. There were threads of fabric that would connect her wrists to her shoulders, that would move with them as they danced.

It was dress straight from dreams, if Brienne would have been a girl who dreamed about dresses.

Jaime came out of his room… _not_ naked.

He wore trousers but his chest was bare and she couldn’t help but look at his chiseled muscles. He smirked at her and she glared but he only shrugged, trying and failing at innocence.

“I’m not naked.” He said.

“That’s not saying much.” Brienne retorted, eyes closed now as a girl, _Alma_ , put some eyeshadow on her eyelids.

They went after him when they finished with her, and Brienne was pushed into her room to put on the dress.

It was lovely, truly lovely and she would almost chance a statement that she looked _decent_ in it.

Her hair was curled, waving elegantly around her face. Her eyes looked darker in the make-up she had on. Her lips glistening in the light.

“You look great.” Margery sighed, fanning herself. “Like a fucking star.”

And Brienne shook her head, laughed nervously.

She really hoped she did, because this wasn’t her.

This really wasn’t her.

-

“Stop fidgeting,” Jaime said, leaning in closer to Brienne while she moved restlessly in place.

She was making _him_ nervous.

She sighed loudly, glared at him as if it was all his fault.

She looked away.

He reached for her arm, for her wrist with his left hand, had to move a strip of fabric to touch the bare skin on the inside. That halted her movements, stopped her. She looked into his eyes, face full of worry.

“It’s going to be fine, we’re ready.” He said and she gave him a curt nod.

“Welcome, after the break, to the third part of today’s competition!” The speaker said, words echoing in the enormous hall and Brienne’s head snapped back toward the dancefloor. “Please welcome to the stage-,”

The names slipped past and Jaime didn’t register them until it was their turn, and the voice sounded loud and clear around them.

“Lannister Jaime and Tarth Brienne!”

He took her hand in his own, squeezed her fingers lightly and led her to the center of the room. She bowed softly, smile on her face and he followed suit.

They moved to the side to make some room for the next couple and he looked at Brienne to check in with her.

She nodded and smiled.

They were ready.

The speaker’s voice rung around them once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will start you with, _Rosebloom Classic_.” The man said. “Let the music play!”

Jaime bowed to her, just as the music started and then they moved.

He’s never heard this song before, but it was smooth and calm and they glazed effortlessly through the room.

Her dress floated around them, making them both look softer, lighter on their feet, even when they held their frames firmly, heads bowed to the sides.

He got lost in the music for a while, as he did every time they danced. He wondered if it would happen at the competition, with so many lights, and eyes and pressure turned toward them but it did. Because Brienne was there with him, in his arms. Strong and solid, like the wind around Casterly Rock.

They moved and moved, until the music ended and the host’s voice boomed again, calling for the _Winterfell Slow_ and another melody took them into its embrace.

_King’s Landing Step_ came almost out of nowhere and it felt like there was no pause between it and the _Snowfall_ before it. They just moved together, from one melody to the next, as if this wasn’t a performance at all. As if there was no rating, no judges. As if nothing really mattered just them and the dance.

He shook his head when the music ended, when people started clapping around them and other couples bowed next to them.

Brienne moved away from him and bowed too, he followed suit just like before.

Their hands never partying.

-

They were in.

They were _in_.

Margery jumped up in the end and then at her, arms surrounding her in a hug.

“I knew you would make it!” She said, smile widening her pretty face.

Brienne smiled, still in shock, still a little dazed by their dance, by Jaime who never let go of her hand.

“We need to celebrate!” Margery continued letting her go and hugging Jaime instead. “Dinner’s on me.” She said.

“Fine by me,” Jaime said, squeezed her hand and finally let go.

Her hand felt empty and she clenched it into a fist for a second.

“Sure,” she said, “just let us change.”

Jaime nodded his agreement and they both moved toward their hotel/apartment to do just that.

She just got out of her beautiful dress and pulled up a white, simple one Margery bought her last year when her phone called.

She grabbed it and smiled and hit accept.

“Hi, dad.” She said.

“Hi, darling.” His voice always soothed her and she could feel the last bits of tension ebb away. “How did it go?”

“Good,” she said, nodding her head even though he couldn’t see her, “we’re through.”

“That’s great, congratulations Brienne.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay darling, it’s late I’ll leave you to it. We will speak tomorrow?”

“Sure dad, thank you. Love you.”

“Love you too darling.” He said and they disconnected.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and tried not to miss him as much as she did.

-

There were only ten of them left.

Ten couples divided in two fives for the _World’s East Standards_ part of the competition.

Just ten, and Brienne and him were one of them.

He lied awake in his bed looking at the ceiling thinking of how the hell did he got here, how the hell did this happened.

He was supposed to be here ten years ago, with Cersei on his arm, all young and happy and so full of dreams.

But it never came to be and somehow, fate decided to give him this.

He didn’t know if it was another chance, it didn’t feel like it, not with dance anyway.

But Brienne, _Brienne_ …

“Wake up! Margery’s going to be here in five and please wear a shirt!” Brienne’s voice came from behind the door, quick and nervous and Jaime shook his head.

He had hoped that she would walk into his room again, just like yesterday. It was a nice sight, first thing in the morning he had to admit.

Her hair was ruffled, her face freshly cleaned.

And the way she looked at him, the way she _blushed_. He tried very hard to pretend he didn’t enjoy it spreading down her neck and chest.

The warmth spread through him at the memory and he had to shook himself. He had to _move_ , there was no time for whatever it was his mind was going for here.

So he walked out of his room into the bathroom, took a quick shower and did put a shirt on, just like Brienne asked him to.

He was being considerate.

The same girl from yesterday was already at Brienne’s hair and the guy rushed toward him with a comb. Jaime complied, sitting down on the couch in the living room looking at Brienne on the other side of the room.

Her long legs were crossed at the ankles and she wore shorts today, so much of her skin on display. He never saw so much of her legs before.

He moved about in his place.

The guy gave him annoyed look and Jaime promptly ignored it, eyes falling down on the generous amount of skin displayed in front of him.

It was not like he never noticed before but… did he never notice before?

Margery grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of it and out of the living room.

He put his dark trousers on, so dark they were almost black but they weren’t. There was a blue there and he liked that, blue always made him think of Brienne. The shirt had some see-through slashes over it, almost like cuts but it looked elegant and classy and he was glad that his first assessment of what Loras would make for them was wrong.

He was glad Brienne’s dress was blue.

Today’s one was blue too.

It was sharper, riskier than the one from yesterday. Her legs were on display, her arms too.

He liked it, she looked very good in it.

She walked toward him and he caught her gaze, she corrected the edge of his shirt a little, fingers almost grazing his skin.

“I like your dress.” He said. “Blue is your color, it goes well with your eyes.”

She smiled, blue, blue eyes staring right into his soul.

-

She was filled with nervous energy once more, she felt like her insides were shaking, like she was shaking, the whole of her.

She wanted to pace, she wanted to _walk_ but she knew she couldn’t because they were going to be announced really soon and she just, she _needed-_

Jaime touched her wrist, fingers wrapping around it, thumb landing on the inside of it. He grazed her skin and she looked at him.

He wasn’t that much shorter than her in those heels, she thought. A ridiculous one really, so late before the competition. She should have thought about it before.

“Brienne.” He said, her name a whisper on his lips and it felt… it felt as if he said it for the first time. Did he say it for the first time? Probably not. It was ridiculous. “ _Brienne_.” He repeated. “We’re going to be okay.”

His voice sounded confident, so sure of it, of _them_. She couldn’t believe he was so calm about this but maybe the stakes were lower for him, or maybe he was more experienced in this.

She took a deep breath turned her head to the side.

When Jaime tugged softly at her wrist she followed him on the dancefloor, he spun her and just like she felt a little better. They bowed and went of to the side awaiting the first dance.

“…let’s start with _Dragon Dance_! Music!” The announcer said, and the first notes hit her ear.

Jaime was right, the tempo was faster than she was used to but the melody vibrated under her feet and Jaime moved with her, quick on his feet, light.

She had no other choice but to follow.

They moved around the dancefloor and she felt her fake performance smile slipping into something genuine. Jaime led them with ease, with fast steps. He spun her pulled her up, _played_ around as if it wasn’t a competition. As if they were back at the Winterfell Academy, trying things out.

_Dragon_ transformed into _Spy_ but she almost didn’t notice. Jaime’s arm around her, hand on her back, then chest to her back too. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck then she couldn’t and then she was right there, so close, chest to chest.

There was a glint in his green eyes, happiness she hasn’t seen before and she smiled at it, hoped she knew it was real, that it was for him.

_Dothraki’s Fast_ rolled in no time at all and she gave it her all, furiously fast as it was. By the end of it, she was out of breath and her lungs burned but she was happy, she was content.

She couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her, couldn’t help the joy. And she realized, then and there that she didn’t need to win this thing anymore. That this, just _this_ would have been enough. Dancing with Jaime Lannister, having _fun_.

_Living_ , she thought, living as she never had before.

-

They were in the final five.

When they announced who went through, the only thing he could do was look at Brienne, gauge her reaction. But her expression didn’t really change that much, she was smiling, she was happy. Her face still red with exhaustion.

Wisps of blonde hair were falling from the up-do they put on her head for today. Her eyes shone in the artificial lights, so fucking blue.

He knew that he said she was ugly before, he _knew_. But he was so wrong. She was the most beautiful thing he saw in his life.

“Good job, Lannister.” Martell’s deep voice came to him from behind, before the man squeezed his shoulder and made him look away from inspecting Brienne’s face.

“Martell,” Jaime said while the men slid effortlessly next to him with Ellaria on his arm.

“You did not get out of shape like we thought you might,” Ellaria said with a smirk, looking him over up and down before turning to Brienne and doing the same to her. “You were stunning, lady Tarth.” She said, biting her dark lips.

Brienne smiled softly and he was sure she would have blushed if she wasn’t so red already.

“Brienne is fine.” She said and pulled out her hand witch Ellaria shook eagerly.

“We’d like to invite you to the party tonight,” Martell said, taking Jaime’s attention away from the way Ellaria’s dark eyes slithered over Brienne, “the competition doesn’t start till late in the evening tomorrow because of the live gala so we can party without worrying about getting no rest.”

“Plus, all the final pairs would be there,” Ellaria added, glancing at him, “I mean, if you two join in.”

Margery clapped her hands, appearing seemingly out of nowhere right next to Brienne.

“Can the team come too?” She asked.

Ellaria’s eyes left his' lazily and she looked at Margery.

“Of course, the more the merrier.”

Martell put a folded card into his hand.

“This is the address, the password is _viper_.” He said, leaning close into Jaime’s personal space.

And _of course_ there would be a password. Jaime almost rolled his eyes.

Martell moved away, looked at both Brienne and Margery and winked.

“I’ll see you at the party.” He said and both him and Ellaria were gone as quickly as they came to be.

Margery snatched the card from his hand and turned it over between her fingers. It gleamed with gold and orange sun.

“ _Finally,_ I’ll attend one of those famous parties.” She said.

“I think you mean infamous.” Jaime corrected and Brienne looked at them both questioningly.

“They more times than not, turn into orgies.” He said.

Brienne’s eyes widened, head moving back just a little and Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“That is so not true,” Margery said and moved. They followed her through the crowd.

“That is _so true_.” Jaime parroted her, putting his best impression of her voice and Margery shot him an annoyed look. “However, this might _not_ happen this time.” He added to appease her.

“And it won’t.” Margery said with conviction, then turned towards Brienne. “We’re going.” She said, tone of her voice said she meant business.

Brienne glanced at him from his side before looking at the back of Margery’s head.

“Okay.” She agreed, a bit reluctantly.

Not that whatever she said would have changed Margery’s decision in any way.

-

It was loud and crowded even before they went into the Martell’s party. And they needed password at the door. _A password_.

Brienne wasn’t sure if it was over the top or not at all.

And then they walked in, and she _knew_ it was over the top. She was not big on partying but she was sure _regular_ parties didn’t involve people hanging from ceilings on the ropes and wild animals in the cages on the dancefloor.

Jaime directed her to the bar and ordered a drink right after they reach it.

“I need alcohol,” he said, looking around, his green eyes scanning everything before finally falling down on her, “you?”

“ _Please_.” She said and he chuckled before ordering her a scotch.

She took a sip of her drink.

“This is kind of a lot, isn’t it?” She asked looking at him.

“Well, that’s Martell for you,” Jaime said, drinking something colorful with a little monkey hanging from the side of the glass.

“Like Lannisters are any better,” Margery said suddenly appearing next to her and leaning over her shoulder to look at Jaime. “Didn’t your father had real lions that one time?”

“It was my brother, and it was _only ever_ that one time.”

Margery laughed and Brienne couldn’t help a smile, looking at Jaime’s annoyed face. There was definitely some bigger story there but it wasn’t probably the right time. As much as it would fit the scenery.

“Sure.” Margery said, disbelief coloring her tone. She leaned back and reached for the drink she ordered from the barman, “I’m gonna go mingle a little. You okay Brienne?”

Brienne nodded, took a sip from her glass.

Margery nodded back, cheered them with her own colorful concoction – hers with a small snake – and disappeared into the crowd.

Jaime poked her softly in the ribs, head cocking to the side, green eyes gleaming.

“Wanna dance?” He asked and she couldn’t possibly say no to him.

She just couldn’t.

He finished his drink in one swift gulp, took her wrist between his fingers and dragged her through the crowd. And she followed, just like when they danced.

They found themselves in one of the rooms that functioned as dance room; apparently. There was a DJ at the top and people moving around to the music.

They moved face to face and Jaime bit his lip. He took both of her hands into his own, holding them up.

“Can you hear it?” He asked.

_Of course_ she could hear it. It was the _Red Viper_.

She nodded and he moved, and as always, she moved with him.

They were really close, and the crowd pushed them even closer. She wasn’t sure there was any space left between them. Their legs were intertwined, faces so close she could smell his hair.

She could feel his body too, even more than in the _Sand Snake_. His chiseled chest pushed into hers, his muscular shoulders above her chin. His scarred hand cradling her own.

She was breathing him in and they were one, and there was no one else around them.

She didn’t know for how long they danced and she didn’t care. She felt good in his arms, _right_ , like she finally belonged somewhere. Not pushed around, reluctantly made space for, but fitted, just as she was supposed to be.

She wasn’t sure if it was the drink or if it was the party or if it was him.

She wasn’t sure and she didn’t care.

-

Margery and _her team_ – as she called them – were especially efficient that day. They were in and out in no time at all and Brienne was hanging onto his arm for dear life.

“My dad is watching.” She said to him when they were walking down the corridor. “I wish I didn’t know that.”

Jaime chuckled at that.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, my father is surely _not_ watching.” He said and put his fingers around her wrist. Brienne laughed softly, nervously.

“Sure, it helps a lot.” She said.

She looked beautiful, in her skintight, midnight blue dress with the slit at the back that reached much higher than was necessary – at least in his opinion. But what did he knew about fashion, really?

_Well,_ probably much more than Brienne did, he guessed. She had an awful sense of style.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said, looked into her worried eyes, darker now as if they wanted to match her dress. He bit his lip, tried not to smile.

“I know.” She said, but as always, she sounded unsure.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Ellaria’s voice came sudden, and they both jumped a little away from each other – and when did they slide so close? Jaime wondered. “We just learned that each couple would have their individual song, so I wanted to give you some heads up if you’re maybe one of those who, you know, get a song stuck in your head and all.” She blurted, words hurried. “Okay, that’s it!” She said and run away waving at them and shouting _good luck_ before she disappeared around the corner.

“Okay,” Jaime said, still looking after her, eyes blinking. He looked down at Brienne. “Would you like to stay outside instead? To not hear the other songs?”

She nodded her head.

“I’ll text Margery, let her know so she can spot us.”

He send a quick text and then looked back up at Brienne.

“Okay, let’s move a bit closer so we don’t have to run like Ellaria just did.” He said and reached to her to take her hand. She slid her palm into his and they walked down the corridors of the venue, moving closer to the main hall.

“Jaime,” Brienne said when they finally stopped next to one of the many entrances. Jaime looked down at his phone. Margery sent him an _ok, be there in a sec_ , he nodded his head at it and then looked at Brienne.

“Thank you.” She said, voice soft and breathy. “I probably should have said it before, but it’s never too late right? So _thank you_ Jaime, for everything, really. For getting me here tonight.”

He shook his head at her.

“ _You_ got yourself here tonight.” He said and she nodded softly.

“But you helped.”

“Okay.”

“ _Okay._ ”

Margery’s face appeared through the door.

“You guys, you have like, five more minutes.” She said before disappearing behind the door again.

Jaime glanced at the swinging door and then looked ad Brienne again. She was taller than him today, in higher heels and he kind of had to look up when she was so close.

He didn’t mind. It was just that he had to crane his neck up a bit, and move closer so he could do what he thought of doing for some time now.

He kissed her softly on the lips, just a peck but quick and daring and sweet, and so, so heavy with every feeling inside of him that he couldn’t really name.

There was a surprise in her eyes, but then there was something else too.

“For luck.” He said and her lips slipped open, but before she could say anything Margery’s head appeared through the doors again.

“Guys, you’re up.”

-

They walked to the dancefloor and moved close together even before the music started.

It was eerily quiet and when she closed her eyes and leaned his face on the side of his it felt like there was no one else there but them.

She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest. With nerves probably, but also with their recent kiss.

Jaime cradled her right hand in his own, thumb falling on the inside of her wrist, almost an instinct now, she guessed.

“I don’t think we need babysitters, do you?” He whispered into her ear and she chuckled softly and then they were off.

It was like they never danced this dance before, like they ever only danced this one.

Every step was a surprise. Every step was a confirmation.

She felt his body next to her, around her. Making her feel safe, making her feel strong.

His feet moved and she moved with them, every little flinch answered, every breath repeated.

She forgot where they were, she forgot about everyone. Like if only the two of them ever existed in this world, in this place, on this dancefloor.

She was overcome with feeling, warmth bursting through her chest and running down her arms, her legs, flooding the whole world around them. Drowning everything, leaving only the two of them, swimming in it.

She felt tears behind her closed eyelids, felt his hand squeezing hers.

She didn’t falter, she didn’t stumble and neither did he.

They were perfect, of that she was sure.

They were perfect, but it didn’t really matter, as long as it was them.

As long as it was this.

For a second, for forever.

The applause was like a wakeup call, like a loud ring or a bucket of cold water.

It brought her down form wherever she drifted but they parted slowly, and he anchored her in the end. Green eyes catching hers, so dark and so clear.

Then he smiled and she smiled back, and she knew that that was it.

-

They won.

_She_ won and he couldn’t believe it as much as he couldn’t believe that he ever doubted it.

There were calls all around them, journalists trying to talk with them, jury members coming in to congratulate them. Their names thrown together, _her name on_ everyone’s lips.

It turned out that his brother came down to see them with Tysha. Catelyn Stark was there too, with her whole flock, hugging Brienne to her chest, so proud. Even he got a respectful nod in gratitude. He didn’t expect anything else.

Then there was a party after the party, music all around. Martell and Targaryen girl and that weird red woman who liked to call herself priestess. It was all a blur, a night he never experienced before, a mix of everything all at once. A storm, raging around them.

And in the eye of it, there was Brienne, always by his side.

Brienne, all in blue.

Brienne with tears in her eyes.

He could only hold her hand, could only give her a little squeeze. Could only grab her wrist softly and rub at the inside of it.

He wanted to do so much more.

It was not the time, but he guessed, that there would always be another time.

-

She was sitting on her father’s back porch in her soft white shorts and wide blue shirt, looking at the blue sky and listening to the sea nearby. The soft breeze reached her even here, moved her hair around her face.

She breathed it in, all of it, _Tarth_.

It was peaceful, just like she remembered. The place she longed for, finally providing her some rest.

There was a creak behind her, wooden floor berating whoever wanted to creep near.

“You have to tell your father to restore the porch. It’s a health hazard.” His voice was deep and soothing and it felt so weird and so right hearing it out here, where there were memories from her past wandering around.

“You should tell him. I think it’s okay.” She said, felt him moving closer, felt him standing next to her. She looked up.

“Nah, I think I’m good.”

She chuckled.

“Are you afraid of my father?”

“You _wish_ , Tarth.”

“Oh, I do?”

He shook his head at her and then reached down, taking her wrist between his fingers.

He rubbed at the inside of it softly, then leaned down a bit and kissed the place with his warm lips.

Then he leaned down even more, catching her lips between his own.

And he kissed her, slowly, softly making her sight into his mouth.

Then he leaned back, looked into her face.

"For luck?" She asked, catching her breath.

He smirked, green eyes shining.

"For something more."

**Author's Note:**

> Dances as follow:  
> (official name / colloquial name / real-world equivalent)  
>  _Rosebloom Classic_ / _Highgarden Posh_ / a mix of different Waltzes  
>  _Winterfell Slow_ / _Snowfall Dance_ / basically Foxtrot  
>  _King's Landing Step_ / _Fleastep_ / that's Quickstep for ya  
>  _Dorne's Standard_ / _Sand Snake_ / Tango, mix of different styles  
>  _Dragon Dance_ / _Flying Step_ / that's some sort of Samba  
>  _Spy Step_ / official name derived from colloquial name / Cha Cha  
>  _Dothraki's Fast_ / _Dark Horse_ / ladies&gents, that's Jive
> 
> plus:  
>  _Red Viper_ = Bachata  
>  _Spider_ = Merengue  
>  _Shadow's Flame_ = Salsa


End file.
